The Dreams of Trees
by myselfonly
Summary: "What stories would a tree have to tell?" Gimli asks, finally unable to abate his curiosity. The answer leaves him only slightly the wiser. Plotless friendship fic


**Firstly a huge, huge thanks to all that reviewed my last LoTR fic; I wasn't expecting such a lovely response and it's prompted me to have another go. This is just a bit of mindless Legolas/Gimli friendship; I love writing about them. In my mind, Legolas is a much wilder creature and Gimli much more philosophical but that's just MY version of them, I hope you enjoy passing five minutes reading about them.**

**Disclaimers apply: none of this is mine. Apart from the tree, I can probably claim that...**

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><p>It is early summer.<p>

We are caught in the rain, sat beneath an ancient tree with a sprawling, thick canopy. Its bole is wide and we sit shoulder to shoulder in companionable silence. Arod grazes nearby on the thick grass that grows in a forest where the trees are few but old; his coat is darker with the rain but he cares little for it. The rain is summer rain and has no anger to it; it is soft and heavy and patters against the verdant growth of the wood like music. The light is soft and it is warm today; despite the fact that I am sat in a summer storm with roots and stones and growing things poking into my rear it is an almost pleasant way to spend an afternoon.

The elf has removed his bow and quiver and set them against the tree, and with elegant archers fingers he is unpicking the warrior braids from his sodden hair. He does not tie it back again once he is finished but lets his hair dry unfettered in the summer breeze. He is looking up into the ancient canopy, eyes far distant.

"We did not need to stop" he informs me, a slight note of petulance in his voice.

"Some of us have the sense to come out of the rain" I reply.

He huffs a breath from his nose as though he considers that absolutely ridiculous, but Legolas still doesn't entirely understand mortals and sees this as one of my oddities. Perhaps he thinks I will fall ill. If it will keep me from a more thorough soaking I will let him think that.  
>His gaze has not yet left the heights of the tree.<p>

"If you wish to climb it, do so" I grumble. "You are not truly with me, you might as well."

He finally looks down and for a moment I am beset beneath the full weight of the years in his gaze. There is a lot of the wild places in him today, it is like being looked upon by a bird of prey. He softens it with a rueful smile.

"Apologies, Gimli. This is a good tree. She is old and has known elves before; she is very awake. She wants to tell me her stories, it is quite distracting."

We quiet again. The rain continues unabated and we listen to the roaring hush of it against leaf and bough. Heavy droplets that have made their way down through the canopy land heavily in the mostly dry loam about us. None hit us. I think that has a lot to do with my company rather than good fortune.

"What stories would a tree have to tell?" I ask, finally unable to abate my curiosity. I want to make a joke of it, to make light of what he hears and how he experiences the world but those years have long passed, this is not a moment of jest and I genuinely wish to know.

Legolas pulls one knee up and rests his arms about his leg. A pinch forms on his brow, he looks annoyed but I know that he is trying to find words for what he knows in his soul. It takes a while and I rest my head back, letting my eyes slip closed. The wiry hair of my head and beard stir in the breeze and I am warm and lulled by the rain. When Legolas speaks again his voice melds and weaves with the sounds around me.

"You told me once how the earth sings to you" he speaks, hesitantly at first. "How beneath your feet and in your heart you feel it move and whisper of its secrets, entreat that you find its hidden treasure so that all may share in the beauty it has birthed, down in the dark places."

I nod, secretly pleased that the elf has listened so well.

"And you know that wood elves feel the song of the wild loudest of all. We hear the call of the wildwood and all the untamed places; we hear it so much louder than our wiser, more respectable cousins." He pauses and the briefest, self deprecating smirk passes his lips before it is gone and he leans his head back against the bole of the tree. "A tree feels the song in colour and light and sound; it is like a dream. She is happy that it is raining. She tells tales of summers she has enjoyed and the slow, creeping sleep of winter, and birds who have raised families in her branches. She tells proudly of travellers who she has sheltered as we are. We are now part of her story."

It is a humbling feeling, I will be honest. A tree even of this evident age is a child in the eyes of the Eldar but the age of the tree is evident to me in the way the age of an elf is not. And so I look up and try to feel the swirling colours of the dreams of trees, but alas I cannot.

"Silly thing to get so excited over" I grumble and settle down deeper into my cloak. I crack one eye open to see Legolas regarding me with that dance of mirth about his eyes. I grunt again and squeeze my eyes shut.

When I wake a while later the light has changed; the storm is passing and the sun has passed from the clouds. Rain still falls and it is lit golden, like falling firelight in a shaft of sun. A blackbird sings deep within the wood and its song echoes through the trees, the air is fragrant with earth and the spicy tang of conifers nearby and out in the rain stands the elf.

He has removed all but his breeches and a light under shirt the same colour as a new spring leaf. His hair is still loose and he stands in the rain like a lunatic, his eyes closed and his face tilted up to catch the rain on his face. He is soaked, and he is smiling.

I can almost hear the song.

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed :)<strong>

MyselfOnly


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